Free Betraying Beauty (Sons of Lucifer MC): Vegas Titans Series by Celia Loren Page A

here for minutes or hours as I
mull over the day’s dizzying events; Danny’s shocking behavior and death…the
violence at the Depraved Club…Dominic suddenly standing there in front of me,
even more handsome and tough than I remembered him…Dominic’s explanations, so
dark and painful but somehow sounding so true…Dominic’s eyes, so cold and full
of the promise of death or life.
    I just don’t know what to think. Or feel. My brain has gone
quiet, like the eye of a hurricane.
    After a short while the bedroom door bursts open and Dominic
storms in. God help me, but he’s beautiful. He’s gained a lot of muscle since
we were kids and holds himself with the unconscious pride of a leader. The
sight of him in the doorway makes my stomach clench, maybe from fear. Or
something else.
    Dominic motions the Prospect outside and rubs his face,
staring at Dirtbeard.
    “Night ride,” Dominic grunts. “You better head down. We’re coming.”
    Dirtbeard scratches his chin and grins. “Sure thing, Prez.”
Then he lumbers out the door.
    I’m beginning to think that’s the only thing my surly
bodyguard knows how to say. They’re like automatons; doing anything that Dominic
tells them to with monosyllabic assent.
    “What’s a night ride?” I ask, standing.
    Dominic is staring at me with that same inscrutable look as
before. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. It used to be so easy for me to read
his thoughts, but with a lift of my chin I remind myself that that was a long
time ago, a different life. Back then I’d catch his eye across the room and it
would feel like we were alone, whispering. But now, we’re worse than strangers.
    And at this moment my best guess would be that he’s trying
to decide if he wants to throw me out the window or kick me.
    It hits me that we’re alone together again, but the pins and
needles I feel have more to do with suspense than hope. This Dominic, this
worse than stranger, seems just as likely to pull out a gun as a rose.
    I’ve seen so much death tonight. And as if that wasn’t bad
enough, I’ve learned Dominic was behind it all. I don’t know what’s thrown me
deeper into shock: the violence, or seeing Dominic again. And on top of
everything, he’s made it painfully clear that he loathes me.
    Why does that bother me so much? Why is that the thought
spinning in my mind like an obnoxious, desperate echo?
    God, why wouldn’t he loathe me? I’d always known how it must
have looked to him, waking up on the shore of the lake alone without so much as
a proper goodbye. I’d always consoled myself with the fact that I hadn’t had a
choice: Haden would have killed Dominic, and I did the right thing. I protected
him. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but it was the right thing. For
years, I’d repeated that to myself like a mantra: I did the right thing, I did
the right thing.
    I tell myself that again, but it doesn’t make me feel any
better. It doesn’t solve my confusion and hurt. It doesn’t change the fact that
I’m here as a hostage in a gang fight, that my life is completely derailed. That
Dominic’s life has become a death trap.
    Now, Dominic’s green eyes are hard and intimidating. He
sweeps them over me again, as if he hates the sight of me.
    “The council’s on a recess,” he finally answers. Only it’s
no answer at all. “Come on.”
    His hand closes around my wrist like iron. It’s so unlike
the touch I remember from when we were young and in love, so unlike that soft
warm give-and-take of our skin, unlike that intimate feeling of closeness I
remember. Now his touch is efficient and cool—and powerful. He uses it to drag
me out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and out of the house into the free
night air again.
    Bright porch lights and tiki torches light the gravel
driveway. When we came through here a while ago, the broad gravel mouth of the
circular drive looked like a motorcycle parking lot: now, it’s transformed into
a hybrid